


Life Debt

by IrenkaFeralKitty



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Horses, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Quest, magical au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrenkaFeralKitty/pseuds/IrenkaFeralKitty
Summary: “Isn’t the idea supposed to be ‘You saved my life, now you owe me a life debt’?”“Nope. Other way around. You saved my life, so now I’m your problem. If you don’t like it, then kill me.”AND“God wanted me dead, now you get to find out why.”
Relationships: Wes Janson/Derek "Hobbie" Klivian
Kudos: 7





	Life Debt

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Between a Dragon and Her Wrath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026762) by [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth). 



“Up and at ‘em!”

Hobbie flailed as he was jolted out of sleep, his legs kicking at his blanket and arm flailing at the source of the sound. Unfortunately, his new mobile morning alarm knew better than to linger close. Feeling more than a little grumpy, Hobbie rolled onto his stomach and glared. 

Wes grinned unrepentantly and offered him a crude clay mug. “Spiced ale. It’ll perk you right up.”

“I’ll perk _you_ up,” Hobbie muttered. Reluctantly, he pushed himself into a sitting position and accepted the mug. A glance around the room showed the other beds were empty. That was something, at least.

“The innkeeper’s wife put some food aside for you,” Wes reported. He dropped down next to Hobbie, unconcerned now about Hobbie lashing out while still half-asleep. “The other guests have departed for the day. We need to leave soon if we want to reach a village with more than one room.”

“And more than one bed,” Hobbie grunted. They could have afforded a second bed last night but Hobbie hadn’t gotten to where he was by throwing coin around willy-nilly. With no hope of any privacy, his usual incentive for being alone in bed was absent. Thusly, it made more sense to just share a bed with Wes and save himself some silver pieces. 

At least Wes was small. Some of the other beds had had three men the same size as Hobbie in them. Instead of struggling to keep from falling out of bed, Hobbie had slept well with a warm, compact body at his back.

The other man watched him drink his ale with bright eyes and a small grin. Hobbie wasn’t used to dealing with such chipper energy first thing in the morning and still had half a mind to dump Wes into the nearest ditch and bolt just to get some peace and quiet.

Still, he had his uses. By the time Hobbie felt like he was finally waking completely up, Wes had fetched fresh water for Hobbie to wash his face and hands in, and then had a fresh set of linens to wear under his usual clothes when Hobbie returned from the privy.

Wes also had a way with people, Hobbie reflected as he sat down in the common room to eat a late breakfast. Instead of just the usual porridge or stew, there was some actual meat and a hunk of brown bread to help him start the day. The innkeeper’s wife smiled warmly at him as he ate, no doubt anticipating the extra coin this courtesy would earn.

Well, Hobbie didn’t begrudge her for her eagerness. This bounty would likely have been taken from the food set aside for the innkeeper’s family and not just what they offered lodgers. It was incredibly generous of her to share it with him.

Wes slipped in and out of the building, preparing their horses for departure. By the time Hobbie was finished, all that was left to do was for Hobbie to don his armor, something Wes’s clever fingers made quick work of. 

Hobbie left the innkeeper with the necessary silver to cover their stay, plus extra for their morning meals. Judging by the effusive thanks and farewells he was offered, Hobbie knew this would be a good place to stop again in the future. They were a memorable enough pair for Hobbie to be confident that the innkeeper would remember their willingness to splurge without causing a fuss and would thus be rewarded with similar courtesy in the future.

Wes was waiting for him on his horse, the reins for their two pack horses tied to his saddle, when the knight finally emerged from the small inn. He watched Hobbie mount up and arrange his sword and shield for travel. “We should find armor for me,” he said with eyes that practically glowed with desire for his own set of the shining plate.

“You’re not a knight,” Hobbie said as their horses began to amble out of the small village.

“So? I’m handy enough with a sword to defeat you more often than naught when we spar. And since we’re traveling together, it just makes sense to ensure I’m as well guarded as you are.”

Hobbie glared. “We’re not going to be together long enough for you to need armor. And stop treating me like your personal money lender.”

“Psh. Lenders expect repayment. You owe me.”

“I owe- I saved _you._ If anyone is owed, it’s _me._ For convincing that lord to let you down from that stake.”

Wes waved a dismissive hand. “That’s not how it works, Hobbie-”

“Sir Derek-”

“Hobbie,” Wes repeated, grinning. He’d latched onto the old nickname with fervent dedication and only used Hobbie’s proper title when they were around nobility. And sometimes not even then. “You saved my life, which means I’m _your_ problem now. And _that_ means I need armor.”

“You’re a _peasant.”_

“Details, details. I wasn’t meant to live out my days as a farmer, Hobbie. I’m meant for greater things.” Wes’s tone was lofty but his eyes crinkled with silent laughter, showing he wasn’t really taking his own words seriously.

Hobbie suppressed a sigh and shifted his focus back to the road. Wes wasn’t _wrong,_ really. It would be a relief to know he was protected by more than just a chainmail shirt. If only armor wasn’t so damned expensive. He hated spending that much gold. He’d have to find some villages being attacked by marauding monsters they could rescue to ensure their coffers didn’t dip too low. The last thing Hobbie wanted to do was write home for more coin, not when he was proud to only need his regular allowance to cover what he couldn’t earn on his own.

“You still haven’t told me why that lord was so eager to sacrifice you to a dragon,” Hobbie said, keeping his eyes firmly forward.

“And you haven’t told me what your quest is.”

Damn it. “A fellow knight requested aid in hunting down a dragon.”

“And?”

“I, well, don’t know where exactly he is.”

“So we’re just, what, wandering across the countryside in hopes we’ll bump into him?”

Hobbie cast a sour look at Wes. “We’re _tracking_ the dragon-”

“The one I was supposed to be food for.”

“As is Tycho, which means we’ll run into him eventually.”

Wes pursed his lips, thinking furiously. “Yeah, this is a terrible plan,” he finally pronounced.

“Well, I didn’t ask you!”

“You should have. We are partners, after all,” Wes said.

Leveling a harsh glare, Hobbie had to consciously relax his jaw and stop grinding his teeth. “I thought you said you were going to be my squire?”

“Only around the nobles,” Wes said, waving a hand dismissively. “We can drop that pretense after I get my own armor.”

Hobbie rolled his eyes. “You do know they’ll ask for your lineage, right? Farming the third hill on the left isn’t exactly nobility.”

“Shows what you know.” With a dismissive smirk, Wes squeezed his legs and his horse surged into a rapid trot, quickly overtaking and passing Hobbie with the pack horses racing to follow.

After gaping for several moments at the black and white horse’s backside ahead of him, Hobbie spurred his own horse to catch up. The sorrel colored horse seemed to sigh before speeding up to a quick gallop. Why the hell could he never get the last word in?

* * *

Two days later, Hobbie stared at the largess spread out across their shared bed with wide eyes. “And you swear you didn’t steal any of this? Or any coin?”

Wes looked insulted. “Of course not! I’m very good with people. I bargained and traded fairly for all of it.”

“Yeah, but…” Hobbie’s voice trailed off and he picked up a roll of blue silk fabric. Silvery threads glinted out from the weave. 

“I helped the merchant make another sale!” Wes said brightly. “There was a noble lady there examining fine linens and I was able to steer her towards several bolts that were not only far more flattering for her complexion, but also much more expensive. The merchant and I struck a fine bargain afterwards in thanks for my help.”

“Right. And the lace? And ribbon?” 

“Trim is _always_ important. Remind me to show you the other ones I’ve picked up.”

Shaking his head, Hobbie continued to peruse the materials before him. There were fine wooden carvings, tantalizing spices, two pieces of magically preserved fruit from the far South, an elegantly forged pair of boot knives, and more.

“What armor the blacksmith had wasn’t of the quality we’re looking for,” Wes said as he watched Hobbie carefully test the boot knives, “but the knives were excellent.”

“They do seem to be of fine quality. Better than I would expect from a smith more used to shoeing horses and repairing plows.”

Picking up one of the small containers of spice, Hobbie opened it, taking a cautious sniff while taking care not to spill any. “What _is_ that? It’s very… orange.”

“Turmeric! Very rare. It’s from the East. If we can find some mages, I can easily make at least triple what I paid for it. If not more. It’s useful in potions, apparently.”

After replacing the stopper, Hobbie passed the container to Wes, who wrapped it up in a spare bit of stained cloth and tied the budle closed with a ribbon. “How did you get the traders to even consider selling it? They hoard their spices, from what I’ve heard.”

“They’re much more generous if you speak their language,” Wes said reassuringly. “Makes them know they’re being appreciated.”

Hobbie stared. “Just how many languages _do_ you speak? It seems that everytime I turn around you’re demonstrating proficiency in a new language.”

Wes just smiled. “I speak as many as I need to.” Then, ignoring Hobbie’s mounting frustration at his refusal to be more specific, he continued. “So why have you permitted such a long stop over? I don’t usually have this sort of time to trade.”

“I was speaking with the local magistrate and priest. An ogre has been attacking the outlying parts of the village every few nights. They’ll reward us handsomely for killing or driving the creature off.”

“Oh?”

“Well, we need coin for your armor, don’t we?”

Wes squealed and then suddenly Hobbie was wheezing on the floor after having been tackling clear off the bed. 

“Sorry! And thanks!” Wes clung to Hobbie, squeezing him tight and making Hobbie feel short of breath for all new reasons before finally climbing off. 

Thanks the gods Hobbie had relented and agreed to ask for a private room, even if it did contain just one bed. 

Wes had most of his purchases packed away when Hobbie rose to his feet. Looking suddenly abashed, he offered Hobbie one of the boot knives, holding it out hilt first.

“This is for you,” he said, sun kissed cheeks darkening some. “The stylings on the sheath put me in mind of your sigil.

Sure enough, the sheath was decorated with overlapping fish scales and a fish tail at the point. It went well with the ocean themed sigil that decorated Hobbie’s tabard. Hobbie felt a blush of own spread across his sunburned cheeks. “Thank you,” he said, taking the dagger. 

Naturally, it fit perfectly in the pocket inside his boot.

“Now, then, about this ogre,” Wes said hurriedly while he turned his attention back to packing up his purchases. “With a solid enough plan, we should have no trouble dealing with such a beast.”

Hobbie gave himself a small shake and went to find the piece of parchment with the bare map and notes he’d gathered earlier. “This should be quite simple.”

* * *

“Well. I’m glad you’re alive,” Wes said as Hobbie took an experimental deep breath. Visible relief crossed his face when there was no pain. 

“A few broken ribs weren’t going to kill me,” Hobbie said as he took some time to appreciate just being able to breath.

“They could have!”

“This is part of being a knight, Wes,” Hobbie said as he twisted from side to side, testing his newly returned range of motion. “It is a knight’s duty to protect those not trained in the use of arms. Broken ribs are to be expected from time to time.”

“For someone who is so often expecting the very worst possible outcome, you are disturbingly accepting of this,” Wes said, folding his arms across his chest and frowning.

“My mistake before was in being optimistic that we could deal with the ogre without difficulty. Such positive thinking required the scales be balanced and my ribs paid the price.” After a few more stretches, Hobbie was reassured that he was, in fact, fully healed, and so he nodded his thanks to the mage who had repaired the damage done by the fight earlier that week. “What do you owe you for such well performed services?”

The mage raised her hands. “We do not require repayment,” she said. “We do not refuse donations or expressions of gratitude, but it would be wrong to charge coin or goods for using our magical gifts.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “And what is a common donation after rendering such aid?” he asked.

“A mere ten gold pieces,” the mage said innocently. “We would never expect or ask for more to be given than can be borne by those wishing to express their thanks.”

“Sure you don’t,” Wes snorted. Fishing into his shirt, he produced a coin purse and dug through it until he could produce the stated number of coins. He had barely extended his hand with them that they disappeared. 

“Please know that you are welcome anytime, Sir Knight,” the mage said. “And you, young squire, our Master of Initiates wished me to convey that we are still happy to extend our offer of-”

“It’s fine,” Wes quickly interrupted. His face had gone rather blank. “I’m quite happy as I am.”

The mage paused, then smiled again, bobbing her head in quick acknowledgement. “Of course. Sir Knight, we would be overjoyed if you stayed with us until tomorrow morning. Our hearth is always warm and the food plentiful. We would see you on your way with whatever provisions you need to continue your quest.”

“My thanks,” Hobbie said. “We will happily take you up on your kind offer.” Then, ignoring the disgruntled look on Wes’s face, he made note of when to expect the bell for dinner and offered farewells to the mage.

The door shut. Hobbie spun around and pinned Wes in place with a look. “What was that all about? What offer was she referring to?”

Wes shifted uncomfortably. “You know I have a little magic,” he finally admitted. “Mages just don’t like anyone running around with any kind of magical ability without them having had a chance to stick their noses into it. They’re just being nosy. I don’t need them to train me.”

“You’ve never chosen to explain to me what you can do with your magic,” Hobbie pointed out. 

“It’s not important.”

“Is this why that lordling was so eager to see you consumed by a hungry dragon?”

Wes paused, clearly thinking through his words carefully. “I’m good with people,” he finally said, “but that doesn’t mean everyone I speak to or for want to hear what must be said.”

Hobbie studied Wes for a long while. It was clear that the other man wasn’t interested in discussing his magical abilities in any greater detail. Which was a shame. Hobbie was certain that whatever abilities Wes did have must be spectacular, just like the man himself. It was also clear, though, that his near brush with death by dragon was more disturbing than he preferred to let on. 

Shaking his head, Hobbie rose from the exam bed and began to dress once more. He didn’t need his padded gambeson as he would not be donning his armor until the morning came. Instead, he simply settled his linen shirt and bound up his truis before donning his boots. A small smile of fondness briefly touched his face when he saw the dagger tucked inside the right boot. 

“Come on,” Hobbie said. “A servant can deliver our belongings to us. In the meantime, I expect we can find a proper bath before we need to dress for dinner. Mages always have hot water.”

“Alright.” Wes watched him closely. “You’re really feeling alright? That ogre slammed you into the ground almost a dozen times.”

“I am,” Hobbie said. He caught one of Wes’s hands and pressed it to his side, deliberately taking a deep breath for him to feel. “See? Nothing is broken anymore.”

Wes’s breath caught in his throat and Hobbie was suddenly highly conscious of how large and warm his hand was. They stood frozen until someone knocked on the door. 

“My lord?” a servant said, peering into the room. “I am to deliver you to your rooms and see to your needs this evening.”

Hobbie knew he was blushing again but forced himself to release Wes’s hand and face the door. “Thank you. I was hoping we could arrange for baths?”

“Of course, my lord,” the servant said. “That will be easy enough. If you would both follow me?”

Wes fell into step next to him, oddly quiet for once. Hobbie was busy thinking through his wardrobe and trying to decide what would be suitable to wear to a dinner with mages when a hand took his, squeezing tight. Glancing over, Hobbie smiled briefly and squeezed back. 

They walked hand-in-hand all the way to the rooms that had been set aside for them, parting only when the servant had opened the door and began to turn to usher them inside. 

“I am alright,” Hobbie said when they were finally alone. Wes looked almost sheepish as he scrubbed as his skin with soap. The high sides of the copper tub were barely enough to contain the water inside. 

“I know,” Wes replied. “Mage healing is thorough. I just… That ogre almost killed you. It’s a miracle it was only your ribs that broke and not your head.”

“I know. But healing is not the only reason I thought we should come here. Instead of flailing about after Tycho, I’m going to ask after dinner if it’s possible for one of the mages to scry for his location.”

“No more roaming the countryside in hopes of a chance meeting,” Wes realized. “I like this plan.”

“As do I. Now hurry up,” Hobbie said. “I need time to bathe and you will need to dress. Hose, Wes. Mages are to be treated with full honors.”

Despite his groans, Wes did climb out of the bath soon enough. And if he took his time drying off, well, Hobbie wasn’t ashamed to admit his let his eyes wander far more than they should.

* * *

Wes was still tying up the pack horses when Hobbie charged forward on his steed, barely managing to drive into the crowd and get his shield between the traveler and a thrown rock in time. 

The mob roared in frustration and Hobbie’s horses whinied angrily. Hobbie was barely able to keep it from kicking and striking someone. 

“Peace!” Hobbie roared, working hard to keep between the two groups. “Cease these hostilities at once!”

A man surged forward, lunging with a rock in hand and anger in his eyes, and Hobbie didn’t hesitate to bring his shield down on his head. He dropped limp to the ground.

“You’ve killed him!” another member of the mob screamed.

“Of course I haven’t,” Hobbie snapped. “Check him yourself before hurling such spurious accusations.”

Another figure shoved forward, an old woman with gray hair drawn up into a tight knot. “He lives,” she pronounced after stooping down briefly. “Speak not as though a knight of the realm would be so careless in his deeds.” 

The woman’s presence seemed to calm the mob. After glancing briefly at the travelers and making sure they were not planning on initiating new hostilities, he turned back to face the woman. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“They’ve kidnapped children!” a man roared, gesturing angrily at the group behind Hobbie. 

He turned. “Well?”

Another woman looked at him and answered in a tongue he didn’t recognize. Judging by nearly translucent tone of their skin and strange tattoos, he determined they were from the far North and traveling oddly far for people who preferred cold climates.

“Wes?”

His sometimes squire and constant companion hurried up to join him and leapt down from his horse. Hobbie watched with interested eyes, suspecting he was about to see some of Wes’s magic express itself.

Wes faced the woman, his gaze intent as he studied her. Then, suddenly, he shifted position, pressing his palms to his chest and bowing with his head turned to look to the side. 

The northern woman’s posture relaxed and she returned the bow in a similar fashion. 

Then Wes began to speak, the strange tones of the traveler’s language rolling smoothly off his tongue without hesitation or delay. He and the woman conversed and soon she turned and gestured towards one of her companions watching from behind the sides of the wagon. Moments later, two children with darker skin peered out at the crowd.

The mob surged at the sight of the children, the earlier fury roaring but was turned away by Hobbie’s fierce scowl, shining shield and the sword he drew as an obvious threat.

Wes nodded as the northerner woman spoke again, listening intently. Finally, he turned to Hobbie. “These children were part of a caravan of merchants traveling through the North. They were ambushed by yetis and these children were the only ones to survive. This band is taking them south to where they have family so they may be reunited with blood kin.” He paused, then glared at the mob. “They are unaccustomed to the heat of these lands below the snowline and none of their tribe have ever traveled so far. But they thought it important to ensure these children were delivered safely to family and thus took on a perilous journey.”

“They’re- they’re lying…” a voice said, floating out of the crowd.

“Not to me they aren’t,” Wes snapped.

“Or to me,” the gray haired woman added.

“You speak their language?” Hobbie asked.

“What’s that got to do with knowing if someone’s lying?” the woman demanded. She snorted, then whacked the man nearest her. “I have a bag behind the tree over there,” she said gesturing behind her. “Fetch it for me.”

The northerner woman’s face brightened. _“Völva,”_ she said.

“Witch,” Wes murmured. “It’s a term of respect.”

The gray haired witch accepted her satchel and strode forward, pushing past Hobbie as though he wasn’t even there. After leaping up on the cart, she turned and glared at the crowd. “You’ll make do without a witch for however long it takes to deliver these children safe to their families. In the meantime, you’ll put this knight and his companion up for the night or however long they like in the finest room available. They’ve kept all of you from committing a horrible deed.”

Despite the many protests and wails, the witch got her way and soon the tribe of northerners was rolling on again. Hobbie and Wes were shown to the inn by a sheepish looking man who couldn’t bring himself to meet their eyes. The finest room available turned out to be fairly small, with only a single bed and wash stand, but was also clean and filled with the warm light of the sun.

Hobbie set down his shield and unbuckled his sword with a soft sigh of relief. “I was worried I might actually have to strike someone down,” he said. 

“Well, you did hit that one guy,” Wes said as he undid his sword belt and laid it down on the floor.

“Not hard. He was coming to before the northerners left.” Hobbie began to undo the buckles of his heavy armor, pausing only when Wes approached to help. “Is there any language you don’t speak?” 

Wes froze. 

“That’s what your magic is, isn’t? You can speak every language in the world.”

“... I have to meet someone who speaks it first,” Wes finally admitted. He ducked his head down and focused on the straps connecting the front and back pieces of Hobbie’s armor. “But once I do, I just… I just know it. I don’t lose it, either.”

“That’s incredible,” Hobbie said wonderingly.

Wes’s face colored. “The written forms are tricky, especially when different languages share characters. I can start writing in one language and end up in another, which makes things confusing. And reading texts in other languages can be hard. There’s so many different meanings to different words. It’s easiest for me to just speak it. And it does have to be a human language. Or, well, the language of species similar to humans. I haven’t met a lot of sentient nonhumans.”

“This isn’t small magic,” Hobbie said after setting the heavy breastplate on the floor. “By the gods, Wes, you should be at court serving the king!”

“Nope! No, thank you,” Wes said quickly. The dark color that had been filling his face drained away. “I’ve heard plenty about court and want no part in it. Nor do I want to join the mages,” he added when Hobbie opened his mouth again. “My abilities are rather narrowly channeled and I don’t need them to hone them further. Nor do I wish to take on the obligations and restrictions they face.”

Hobbie stood quiet for a moment, then stepped forward, taking Wes’s hands in his own. “There are a hundred different things you could be doing right now,” he said. “All of which would bring you wealth and honor to spare.”

“The maw of a dragon’s mouth, you mean,” Wes snorted. He was blushing again, staring down at the floor and only occasionally peeking up through his lashes at Hobbie. “The one time I volunteered my services got me nobles angry I wouldn’t lie for them. They tied me to a stake outside in hopes a dragon would eat me and spare their keep, whilst also ridding themselves of an annoyingly truthful translator.”

Stroking the large, calloused hands held within his own, Hobbie smiled. “You’re usually much more diplomatic than that,” he teased.

“Yes, well, these lies weren’t… I wasn’t going to take responsibility for what they were trying to do,” Wes replied.

“And then I saved you.”

“And then you saved me. The gods themselves seemingly wanted me dead and you defied them by saving me. Which makes me your problem, now, and if you want to be rid of such a burden, you’ll have to kill me yourself.”

“Then I’m trapped forever,” Hobbie said. Letting go with one of his hands, Hobbie reached up and cupped one of Wes’s round cheeks. The other man pressed into the touch and finally lifted his gaze from the floor. 

“Trapped unwillingly?” Wes asked. “By your refusal to strike without being attacked first?”

“Oh, no, trapped quite willingly,” Hobbie said. “I’ve become rather accustomed to you, see, and as you say, you are my responsibility. It is my duty, then, to remain at your side.”

“Knights are very dedicated to duty,” Wes noted.

“It is at the heart of what we do,” Hobbie agreed. And then, wanting to exchange no more words, moved his hand to cup the back of Wes’s head and drew him close for a kiss.

Wes’s lips were soft and warm, and they moved willingly beneath Hobbie’s. Their breath caught on each other’s and Hobbie immediately pressed closer. His heart thrummed in his chest, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s at the sheer joy of this simple embrace. 

When they parted, Wes’s eyes were warm and shining. “Let me help you with the rest of your armor,” he murmured, and Hobbie groaned as Wes quickly and efficiently removed the remainder of the heavy plate from his body. The man’s hands didn’t hesitate to tease him and when the plate was gone he started on Hobbie’s clothes without hesitation. Once naked, Hobbie pushed Wes’s hands away and returned the favor, delighting in the rich brown skin that was revealed bit by bit for him. Oh, how he’d been dreaming of this. 

Pausing only to locate the necessary oil, Hobbie drove Wes back onto the bed and was rewarded by Wes drawing him close. When their bodies joined together, Wes cried out with abandon, moving beautifully and perfectly beneath him. They moved together so well it was hard to believe they’d never been as such with each other before, and the final peak they reached together.

Even after they were clean and their blood cooled, Hobbe couldn’t resist kissing and stroking Wes’s bare skin. It wasn’t the unmarked flesh of a bard’s song, but a body used to hard labor and facing many dangers. And Hobbie delighted in it for he knew Wes understood better than any other could the similar marks born on his own flesh. 

“My knight in shining armor,” Wes teased after a long, lingering kiss. 

Hobbie shuddered as he felt a spark begin to stir his blood once more. “My special problem, bound to me forever by a debt I will never be able to repay. You have brought me more joy and peace than I ever thought I would find.”

“Flatterer.” That faint flush returned to Wes’s cheeks and Hobbie felt his heart leap in his chest again. To think he could become so enamored with such a simple thing.

Bending down to kiss Wes again, Hobbie was rewarded by Wes’s eager response. 

Tomorrow they would resume their journey to locate Tycho in the mountains the mages had located through careful scrying. Today, though, would be just for them.


End file.
